Recovering from the Aftereffects of War
by ichelleb
Summary: Post DH.  Three months after the Battle has ended, how do three people put their lives back together?  An AU PercyOliver with appearances by George answering the question: What happens next?  Rated for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I in no way, shape, or form own any of the characters contained in my story. They are the property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter universe. Not all of the ideas contained in this story are original; I just thought I'd try my hand at writing what I considered fantastic concepts. I do not make any money from my writings. I write for the enjoyment it gives me, and the possible enjoyment reading gives others. With that being said, taking something from another writer without crediting them is plagiarism, and it's against the law. So please don't do it.

**Chapter 1**

Percy looked up as the interdepartmental memo flew into his office. It was a deep red paper airplane, indicating it was from the minister himself. Percy sighed. He dreaded his daily memos from the minister. They begin normally enough, the projects and paperwork to be completed by the end of the working day or week. However, they usually contained tidbits of information about his family at the end. Now that the war was over, Percy looked at this information carefully. It was difficult to jump back into familial relationships after ostracizing himself for so long. Not that he didn't want to reconnect with his family.

Percy found that his relationship with his brothers was now strained. Ron looked at him with distaste, like everything he did was of poor quality. George wouldn't talk to him at all. But then again, George wasn't talking to many people at the moment. And even Bill and Charlie, whom Percy respected and admired growing up, kept Percy at a distance. It was as though his betrayal was contagious, and his brothers didn't want to catch it.

Ginny, on the other hand, was the most difficult of his siblings to understand. She accepted Percy's return to the family without questions or comments. Percy thought part of that had to do with her relationship with Harry Potter. Not many people could say they felt the force of Voldemort's wand and lived. And Harry could say it twice. Percy thought it was Harry's most recent brush with death that led Ginny to accept Percy for who he is, not who he was.

But it was his parents that Percy felt the most apprehensive about. His mother, glad to have her son back in her life, smothered Percy. She sent cakes, casseroles, and knitted pieces of clothing to his apartment biweekly, and the letter that accompanied the food detailed every moment of her days. It was as if she feared he would detach himself from the family again, and needed to assure him that she wanted his love and wellbeing.

Mr. Weasley was another story. He didn't imply anything. Instead, he regularly met with Percy for lunch, telling tales of his siblings and their current predicaments. Bill and Fleur were expecting a baby, and Bill was getting nervous father jitters. Charlie was preparing to go back to Romania, only staying long enough to make sure his family was truly safe. Weasley Wizard Wheezes was back in business, but George was hiding something, and no one could figure it out. Ron and Harry joined acting Minister Shacklebolt at the ministry and have begun official auror training, with daily reports back to the minister on the effectiveness of the program. And Ginny was preparing to go back for her final year at Hogwarts.

Yet, Mr. Weasley withheld any information about himself. Maybe he thought his wife was relaying information to Percy through her letters each week. Or maybe he was too afraid of the conversation he would have with Percy if they talked about each other.

Percy picked up the red airplane from his desk.

_Mr. Percy Weasley, _

_Thank you for your quick assessment of the current One Wand for One Wizard Act. The details were impressive and will be taken into careful consideration during our deliberations. I would like to remind you that the report for the Reissue of Goblin Security Detail is due in three days. If you need assistance in compiling the required data, please see Hannah in the Department of Magical Creatures office. _

_In other news, your brother Ron is doing incredible well in our auror training program. His battles with magical beasts are extraordinary, particularly with a heinous breed of mountain troll. _

_I look forward to reading your next report, _

_Acting Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt _

Ever since Shacklebolt became acting Minister of Magic, Percy's desire to stay within the confines of the ministry have slowly diminished. His working title was now "Assistant Undersecretary to the Junior Assistant of the Misuse of Magical Laws and Regulations Department." Percy's job entailed compiling many detailed reports on vaguely important laws dealing with magical restrictions. Percy enjoyed working on the more obscure laws that no one would care about until years later, when the stress from the recovery of the Second War was long behind them.

The only reason Shacklebolt sent daily memos to a ministry employee so far down the ladder was because Percy was a Weasley. It reminded him daily of his lack of substantial ties to his family. Since the Battle of Hogwarts, Percy saw less and less of his family. He feared their rejections, yet wanted their approval and acceptance.

Percy began rubbing the knots in his neck as an indigo colored memo entered his office.

_Percy, _

_How about lunch today? Noon, in my office? _

_Dad_

Percy scribbled a quick acceptance on his own white memo paper, and watched in fly out of the office. He had tried denying his father a few times, and it always turned futile. His father was a persistent man, and would seek Percy out whenever he refused an offer of lunch.

Percy continued to work on the Reissue of Goblin Security Detail until five of twelve. He noted a few key items he would need to go to Hannah for help with, and then made his way to his father's office.

Despite his involvement with the Order of the Phoenix and his friendship with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley continued to work for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. He was offered another position, a higher more prestigious position, yet he declined. Arthur enjoyed his work and the interaction it gave him with the Muggle World, and he saw no reason to deny his personal happiness now that the war had ended.

A glimpse of red hair caught Percy's eye as he made his way past the Auror department, and he quickened his steps in order to avoid his brother. Percy often thought about what he would say when he finally confronted Ron. "I'm sorry I was a prat," was usually the first thing to come out of his mouth. Yet he avoided his brother, afraid of what Ron would say back.

As he came closer to his father's office, Flynn, his parent's new owl, flew past him with a paper bag in its mouth. He knocked on his father's door.

"Ah, Percy. Come in. Your mother has just sent lunch." Arthur pointed to Errol's replacement and the bag now sitting on his father's desk. "Meatball subs, if my nose is correct. Leftovers from last night's dinner."

Percy sat across from his father. The chair, positioned directly across from Arthur, always made Percy feel as though he was attending an important interview. His palms would sweat and his glasses would slowly slide down the bridge of his nose.

Arthur smiled as he set out their lunch. "How are things going with the Laws and Regulations?" Arthur began each of their lunchtime meetings with the same question.

Percy smiled. "They're proceeding nicely. The minister was pleased with my findings regarding the One Wand for One Wizard Act, and now I have moved onto researching Goblin Security measures."

Arthur nodded as he stared at his son. "That sounds interesting."

Percy took a bite from his sandwich and relished in his mother's cooking. "It's informative."

The two sat in silence and continued their meal. This was the part Percy hated the most. His father would think of ways to interact with Percy, and fail. Instead, he would fall back on his knowledge of his other children.

"Ron is doing well in the Auror department," said Arthur.

"Yes, the minister informed me this morning. I hear he battled a few mountain trolls," said Percy.

"Oh, yes. It was very exciting."

Percy looked around the office as his father continued his tale of Ron and the mountain trolls. Apparently, Ron and Harry told the story a few days ago when they were at the Burrow for dinner. He fixed his gaze on a photo hanging to his right. It was of the family, right before Charlie started Hogwarts. Percy looked at his eight year old self. He was staring at Bill and Charlie with fascination. He wanted more than anything to be like his older brothers.

"And we're taking Ginny shopping for her school things next Wednesday. It's a bit upsetting to know that your youngest is in her final year at Hogwarts. Why, I remember your first train ride, Percy. You were so serious. You refused to let Bill or Charlie help you, insisting that you could carry your trunk on the train yourself. And when the twins tried to say goodbye, you pushed them away, saying you were a grown up now, and grown ups didn't have time to play with little children." Arthur let out a forlorn sigh, upset at the memories regarding his son. "Were you ever happy, Percy?" Arthur asked.

Percy turned from the picture and looked at his father. When he saw the concern mixed with confusion in his father's eyes, Percy looked down at his half eaten sandwich. "I don't know what you mean," he said, his voice quiet, almost inaudible.

"Where did we go wrong with you? It is so much to ask that you join us as a family once in a while? You might gain a new perspective of the world."

"I have to get back to work. Thank you for lunch. I'll see you next week." With that, Percy leapt from his seat.

"Come with us to Diagon Alley next week," Arthur blurted out.

Percy paused in his attempt to flee the office. His hands positioned on either side of the doorframe, prevented him from walking out the door.

"It would only be your mother, myself, and Ginny. No more of the traveling with our own personal Quidditch team, reserve players included. Just the four of us. We could meet at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch."

"I'll think about it," said Percy, his back still to his father. He slowly lowered his arms and walked out of the office.

As he made his way back to his own office, Percy thought about how Arthur had broken their unspoken code. Up until that point, neither of them talked about why Percy differed from the Weasleys. They simply accepted it. But now his father wanted answers to questions Percy was afraid to ask himself.

As Percy sat back at his desk, he looked over his half completed report and realized that he'd have to go see Hannah before he was able to finish it. That meant he couldn't hide in his office in an attempt to avoid all people for the rest of the afternoon. Percy sighed and began gathering the notes he would need to take with him.

Percy took the stairs rather than the elevator. At the Ministry of Magic, very few employees relied on the stairs to travel between floors. This ensured that Percy would have limited contact between any unwanted interactions. Right after the Second War had ended, Percy encountered a dispirited quasi-Death Eater alone in one of the elevators. The other fellow took one look at Percy's red hair and began listing all the reasons Weasleys were the problem with the Ministry and how the Dark Lord would return like he did before. That employee no longer worked for the ministry. Even so, since then, Percy tried to avoid unnecessary contact with other Ministry employees.

The sound of his polished black oxford shoes clicking against the metal staircase comforted Percy. Its echo confirmed that he was the only one taking the stairs at that time. Percy slowly made his way up the staircase, thinking of how to avoid his father for the next few days. He paused in front of the door to Level 4: _Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau_. The glass window was opaque, preventing Percy from seeing what was happening in the department. The last time Percy made the trip up to Level 4, experimental chickens were pecking at every wizard that tried to capture them. Yet, strangely, they would whistle at the witches and went willingly into their arms.

Percy straightened his tie and realized he had forgotten his robes. Though in the past Percy liked to present himself in the manner he saw fit for a ministry employee, he no longer enjoyed wearing dress robes. Instead, he often dressed in muggle office wear, dress pants, a buttoned down collared shirt and tie, under his dress robes and would remove his robes when entering his office.

He straightened the folders in his arms and opened the door. It was quiet. Too quiet. Percy stood still, waiting for the ambush of creatures that were inevitably hiding somewhere in the department.

Hannah strolled out of the file room, saw Percy standing there with his eyes wide, searching for disaster. She sighed. "They're all out on assignment. We should be good for a few hours yet."

Percy nodded and followed Hannah to her desk. Despite Hannah's reassurance, he continued to look around corners for an unexpected creature to come bounding out at him.

"You're here for the data on the Goblin Security, right?" Hannah asked.

Percy nodded his head. "Yep. Goblin Security this week, Werewolf Precautions next week, and possibly Troll and Dragon mating rituals the week after that."

Hannah laughed. "You don't sound too thrilled." She paused in her search for her file on Goblin Rebellion techniques and looked at Percy. "Ok, what happened?"

Percy lifted his chin as he sat in front of Hannah's desk. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That's bullshit, and you know it, Percy Weasley," said Hannah as she pointed a file on the restrictions of magical pets at him. "I've known you for too long to have you sit and brood over some asinine comment a coworker made about you."

"It was my father." Percy's voice was soft and slightly muffled as he lowered his gaze to the files on his lap.

"Oh." Hannah sat, afraid that her legs wouldn't hold her up for this conversation. "What did he say?"

"Does it really matter? I'm different from them, and they can't understand why I'd choose to back the ministry instead of following them under Dumbledore's instruction."

"Have you tried talking to them?"

"What would I say?" Percy stood up and began pacing in the small space allotted in front of Hannah's desk.

Hannah sighed. "We've been through this before, Percy. It doesn't matter what you say to them. You just need to start a conversation. And not about your family, about you."

Percy sat again. "What can you tell me about Goblin Security?"

"Avoiding the issue won't make it go away," Hannah said as she shook her head.

Percy placed his files in front of Hannah. "No, but it will get me back to my apartment at a fairly decent time tonight. So if you please, Goblin Security."

"Fine," said Hannah, "but if you change your mind, I'll be at the Green Goblin Pub tonight, there's a big Quidditch match, we wouldn't be heard over all the noise."

Later, as Percy finished organizing the data and began to write up the report, he thought about Hannah's offer. It would be nice to talk to someone about his family. But Hannah was too detached from his life. Sure they attended Hogwarts together, but Percy never gave her much thought until after the war when the two worked together to finish various reports. With the frequency the minister put the two of them together, Percy was starting to think that he was trying to play matchmaker. Unfortunately for the minister, the reason why Percy and Hannah got along so well was because they were both same sex oriented.

Percy smiled as he thought of the Green Goblin Pub. It was a known gay bar, one of the few in the wizarding world. He had only visited it once, and walked home with napkins and pieces of parchment with numbers and addresses written on them in places he didn't know even a skilled pickpocket could reach. Percy didn't call any of the numbers; instead, he left them in the top drawer of the table next to his bed.

On nights when he felt particularly lonely, Percy would take out the numbers and fantasize about the life of each man, based solely on his handwriting. His favorite was a quickly scribbled number that was crossed off, and then rewritten. It reminded Percy that other people were like him: unsure and afraid of taking an adventure. In his mind, this man was tall, equal in height to Percy's six foot one inch frame. But his mystery man would have broader shoulders, a deeper voice, and exert strength and masculinity.

Yet Percy knew it was more likely that the chicken scratch handwriting belonged to a middle-aged wizard with little experience and only hopes for a decent one-night stand. Percy sighed as he stared at the papers sitting in neat piles on his desk. His sexual experience was probably more limiting than his puny, overweight mystery man's. He had one girlfriend at Hogwarts, Penelope Clearwater. And though they built their relationship on their ability to succeed in school, the sexual attraction between them was nil.

In the male department, Percy had kissed exactly two men. Andrew, his first, was right after graduation from Hogwarts. Though it was short, and little more than experimentation between two friends, it gave Percy the confidence to accept his sexual orientation and break things off with Penelope. The second, a muggle named Thomas, was Percy's boyfriend for three weeks. Thomas worked as a bouncer at a popular muggle gay club, and broke it off because Percy didn't feel comfortable getting in bed with a man he barely knew.

This was all before the ministry recognized the beginning of the Second War. Since then, Percy hid from men, especially men that flirted with him. Jackson in the Department of Games and Sports was frequently finding excuses to talk to Percy. It wasn't that Percy wasn't attracted to Jackson, he just thought it would be better he chose one man to spend his life with, and he didn't want to waste his time going through the wrong men first.

Sure that no more work was going to be done that night, Percy packed the more important papers in his briefcase and stored the rest in the left drawer of his desk, placing an anti-theft charm on the drawer. He wrapped his robe around his shoulders and walked to the main Atrium of the ministry, where he Apparated to right outside his apartment.

"Hi, Hermes," Percy said as he walked into is apartment. "I hope your day was better than mine."

Hermes hooted in response.

Percy nodded as he began to undress, charming his clothes to follow him to the bedroom and place themselves in the hamper. "That's what I thought."

Hermes followed Percy expectantly.

"I don't have any correspondences tonight, Hermes. I'm sorry. I'll try to remember to bring some home tomorrow night."

With that, Hermes flew out the bedroom window.

Percy sighed as he sat on the edge of his bed. "I can't even keep my owl happy." His voice echoed in the sparse apartment. Because of his quick exit from the Burrow years before, Percy had very few personal possessions. No pictures hung from the walls, no knickknacks littered his flew mantle, and few non-work related clothes hung in his closet.

After completely undressing, Percy lay back on his bed. His fingers slowly traced patterns on his chest. His breath speed up and he grasped his cock with his right hand. He furiously began to jerk his hand up and down, the wanted friction causing his body to heat up. Percy looked down his chest; his body was slowly turning red as he moved his hand faster. A few pumps later and Percy was finished.

As his breath returned to normal, Percy waved his wand and cleaned up his mess. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, watching his room slowly darken as the sun went down. He closed his eyes, afraid to sleep, yet afraid to stay awake. Percy knew the nightmares would come either way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I in no way, shape, or form own any of the characters contained in my story. They are the property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter universe. Not all of the ideas contained in this story are original; I just thought I'd try my hand at writing what I considered fantastic concepts. I do not make any money from my writings. I write for the enjoyment it gives me, and the possible enjoyment reading gives others. With that being said, taking something from another writer without crediting them is plagiarism, and it's against the law. So please don't do it.

**Chapter 2**

Oliver stepped onto the Quidditch pitch and breathed in deep. Three months later and the air still smelled of blood. He couldn't escape it. The scent was permanently embedded into his nostrils. Every morning he breathed in, trying to erase the scent, and every morning he failed.

"Morning, Wood." Terrence Night, the captain of Puddlemere United clapped Oliver on the back as he also stepped onto the pitch. "It's good to be playing again, eh?"

Oliver nodded his head. The Department of Magical Games and Sports had put the National Quidditch League on hold for an entire year during the war. Though the teams were not allowed to practice until today, individual players, Oliver included, had been in and out of training for the past few weeks.

"I heard you're off the reserves. Congratulations." Terrence was somber when he spoke. A Death Eater killed Puddlemere's previous keeper, a quiet Irishman named Kieran, last October. Kieran and Terrence started on the reserves together fifteen years ago, and Terrence thought they'd play the game forever.

"I just wish it was under better circumstances." Oliver's voice was low, almost inaudible. He moved toward the center of the pitch, jumped on his broom, and began flying laps around stadium.

Flying allowed Oliver to escape from the nightmares of war. When he was up in the air, with the wind whipping across his face, death and destruction weren't real. The battle never happened. He didn't carry the dead back into the castle. He didn't have to see Harry's lifeless form in Hagrid's large arms. None of that mattered when he flew.

Oliver was glad when the letter from Puddlemere's owner asked for a meeting in late June. The war had ended almost a month before and the dreams were starting to affect Oliver. The owner's decision to play Oliver instead of holding try outs for a new keeper was a relief. Oliver immediately began working out with the team's trainers. His agility and stealth in front of the hoops improved, and though his flying was always great, he picked up speed every time he flew laps around the pitch.

Oliver landed as he saw more of his teammates walking across the field.

"Don't know why he thinks he's so special. Just because he fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and personally knows Harry Potter doesn't mean he's good enough to play keeper."

"Didn't he play Quidditch with Potter at Hogwarts?"

"So what? Have you seen Potter play? Who knows if he was any good."

"All it proves is that he's young. Wonder how long it will take him to buckle under all the media attention he's getting."

The whispers stopped as the team saw Oliver approach. Terrence looked at Oliver before addressing everyone. "Laps around the pitch to begin. Then we'll start quaffle drills. And yes, Jacobs, even though you're a seeker, you still need to participate in quaffle drills. Today is a team practice, and we practice as a team." Terrence blew the whistle around his neck and the team, including the reserve players, flew into the air.

Oliver sat on his broom, balanced in midair as his teammates flew by him.

"Oi, Wood, get moving. You'll never block a quaffle if you can't sit on a broom for long periods of time," shouted Terrence.

Oliver sighed and learned forward on his broom. He immediately shot ahead, the momentum forcing him to pass by Jacobs as the team rounded the curve. At the end of two laps, Oliver was leading the pack. By the time the rest of the team finished fifteen laps Oliver finished twenty. It continued this way until Terrence blew his whistle again.

"Does he have to show off? We know he's popular because of the war, we don't need him to be cocky, too."

Oliver tried to ignore the whispers about him. He knew what they all thought. He was too young to play first string on a professional Quidditch team. His good looks brought more attention to the team, even to the married players who relished their privacy. His involvement in the Battle of Hogwarts made him a legend, and the fact that he personally knew Harry Potter kept the media buzzing around the stadium, asking questions and looking for statements from the other players.

Oliver tried to ignore the media attention. He never gave out interviews without being forced by the team's media liaison. And the interviews he did participate in were short, with only quick sound bites to temporarily satisfy the media hounds.

Oliver hoped that if he kept to himself maybe they'd leave him alone. He was used to being alone. After the Quidditch League was put on hold last year Oliver tried to shut out the world. He stopped receiving mail, ignored his flew calls, and avoided visitors. His life used to revolve around a broom, and he didn't know what to do without Quidditch.

It wasn't until he ran into Fred and George Weasley in Diagon Alley that he became an active participant against Voldemort. He believed Harry's story that Voldemort had returned. He saw no reason not to. From his experience at Hogwarts, Harry was often subject to attacks and unwanted attention. After years of wondering, it only seemed natural to explain it away by saying it was all because of Voldemort. Harry never asked for the attention, it was thrust upon him.

Likewise, Oliver never wanted to be the pin up boy for teenage witches across England. He fought because he wanted to help his friend, a former teammate, and because it was the right thing to do. He never imagined that magazines would be knocking on his door for the opportunity to speak with him about his personal experiences with the now defeated Dark Lord.

The team finished their laps and began lining up for quaffle drills. No one willingly partnered up with Oliver. The first string resented him because he was never forced to prove that he was as good a keeper as his predecessor. And the reserve team felt cheated. Oliver got lucky. If Kieran hadn't been walking down the wrong street, Oliver would still be on the reserves with them.

Bobby Blaowman finally situated himself across from Oliver. "Don't take it personally, mate. It'll blow over eventually." Bobby was the team's lead beater, having proudly unseated twenty-three players in one game four years ago. It was a national record. Bobby was also known as the compassionate teammate. If you had a problem, Bobby would listen without prejudice and offer advice that always worked.

Oliver had nothing to do but listen to Bobby. Yet, Oliver did take it personally. By resenting his actions, the team resented him for who he was. Oliver chose to defend the wizarding world against Voldemort, and he wasn't ashamed that he fought. He just wished people would forget and move on with their lives.

Oliver and Bobby first tossed the quaffle between them. They then speed up, and began flying around the pitch, continuing the tossing motion.

"I've seen you out here with the trainers; you're looking really good. Especially with not playing for almost a year."

Oliver nodded and kept his eyes between the quaffle, Bobby's hands and body position, their rotation around the pitch, and their proximity to the other players. "I figured it might be tough to get back into shape. When Dilbert asked me to play, I immediately asked how soon I could begin training."

"It's tough not playing for so long. That's why I always hate the off-season. We put our bodies through hell to stay in shape for nine and a half months of the year, and then we slack off for two and try like hell to get back into shape two weeks before training begins again." Bobby began throwing the quaffle faster as well as flying faster around the pitch.

"I always tried to keep my body in decent shape. It's easier if you don't let it go."

Bobby smiled. "Try telling that to my wife. She likes the two months I'm home. I mow the lawn, I fix her muggle appliances, and I eat all her cooking."

Oliver tried to smile, but came up short. Because he spent so much time away from home during his Hogwarts years, Oliver became a stranger in his own home during the summer holidays. His mother often forgot he was there, and would spend her time planning trips and meetings with the other Quidditch obsessed women in the neighborhood. Her inattention was partly the reason Oliver moved out shortly after his graduation from Hogwarts.

Oliver's mother was the daughter of Kevin Broadmoor, the famous beater of the Falmouth Falcons. Her biggest disappointment was that Oliver player keeper, not beater. Her life revolved around Quidditch games and clubs. Oliver found that his mother held little regard for anything not Quidditch related.

Like his mother, his father also participated in the religion of Quidditch. Because of his lack of talent on a broom, he became a sports writer for a local wizarding newspaper. His greatest accomplishment was when he interviewed the Brazilian National Quidditch team on their ambitions for the World Cup. He was the first English-speaking reporter to interview the team.

Neither of his parents kept an interest in Oliver's life, except when it came to Quidditch. To them, O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were arbitrary letters that detracted from their son's ability to practice Quidditch. And as long as Oliver wasn't dating anyone, the more time he could devote to Quidditch practice.

While at Hogwarts, Oliver kept his letters to his parents filled with Quidditch details, especially Gryffindor's chance for the Quidditch Cup. However, their reactions to Oliver's acceptance to Puddlemere's reserve team was mixed. His father rejoiced that his son would play. By playing professional Quidditch, Oliver fulfilled all of his father's dreams. His mother, on the other hand, was upset that Oliver didn't wait for a more prestigious team to swoop him up.

Terrence blew his whistle once more and watched as the team flew toward him, quaffles flying as they went. "Now that's a beautiful sight after a year. Those red balls in the air are beauties. As you could probably tell, we're taking it slow this week. Getting reacquainted, if you will, with each other and with the game. Each practice will begin like this, then specialized team training in the morning, followed by weight lifting and individual training in the afternoon.

Today we're working on developing our chasers. Wood, as you're our only keeper, we'll only be working with one goal today. We hope to have that remedied by the end of the week. Now I've got six chasers in front of me, and I want all of you to play offense, then we'll switch to defense, and then we'll mix it up. Beaters, I want you trying to throw the chasers off, whether it's their brooms or their path, with the practice bludgers. We don't need any injuries on the first day. Seekers, you're to weave in and out of the action like you would on a normal game. And Wood, you're to block as many quaffles as you can. Everyone understand? Good. Let's get going."

Oliver flew to the three hoops positioned on the right side of the field. He weaved in and out of them, getting the feel for the wind and its possible affects on the quaffle. He cleared his mind, looking only at the red ball being tossed between the six players in front of him. He played well, only letting four goals past in two hours of practice.

As the team landed for lunch, Oliver hung back on the pitch. He wanted the rest of the team to start without him. As he approached the locker room, Terrence was waiting.

Terrence had his arms crossed in front of his chest. "You're not going to change their opinions if you refuse to interact with them."

"I didn't think they wanted to interact with me."

Terrence shook his head. "You need to give them a chance. This week is important, Wood. It will determine how the rest of the season will go. You can't change who you are, but you can change their perceptions of you. Now get to the café, and start interacting."

Oliver lowered his head as he headed into the locker room. After shucking his broom and gear, he headed for lunch with the rest of the team.

As he entered the cafeteria, Bobby raised his hand and beckoned Oliver to his table. "Wood, I'd like you meet Kerry, Thompson, and Braxton."

Oliver nodded at each one in turn. "It's nice to meet you."

"Sit," said Bobby as he patted the chair next to him.

Oliver looked at the faces around the table and realized that none of these players were the ones to criticize him at the beginning of practice.

"I've seen you training with Cooper the past few weeks. How do you like him?" asked Thompson.

"He's a bit different than what I'm used to, but I like him. He's very determined, and his love of the game is extraordinary."

Thompson nodded. "Yeah, that's why we like him as well. He's not as good as Trankers, but better than Becks. It's a good introduction to the big leagues for young players. You'll do well by him."

"Thanks," said Oliver as he picked at the food on his plate.

"You're going to need your strength for this afternoon, mate. Better start eating," said Bobby.

Oliver nodded and took a few bites of his salad.

Braxton looked at Oliver's plate. "You're not a vegetarian, are you?" he asked. "The caterers will provide meat substitutes if you are. But I can't guarantee what they'll taste like."

"Oh, no. I just don't like to eat big meals during practice."

Braxton shook his head. "You'll get over it. You're going to need more protein than that to survive the day. Especially when Night bumps up the level of intensity of our practices."

Oliver looked at the other players' plates. Each was filled with a large piece of fish and great portion of salad. Oliver's plate, on the other hand, contained only a few pieces of lettuce and a couple slices of cucumber and tomato.

Oliver didn't want to tell them the thought of eating made him want to throw up. He was nervous enough about proving himself capable to play on the team, never mind having to work out with them in the gym after lunch. He smiled at Braxton. "Maybe tomorrow I'll try a heartier lunch."

The players laughed and continued their conversation from earlier. Oliver sat quietly, moving the tomato around his plate, hoping it would disappear so he wouldn't have to eat it. Since the battle, his appetite decreased. At Hogwarts, Oliver used to be able to eat his teammates under the table. Now, he was lucky if he kept down a few bites each day.

Oliver followed his teammates when they stood to get ready for their afternoon session. The weight training room was large, full of equipment to strengthen and tone their physiques. Oliver nodded at Cooper when he entered.

"You're with me today, Wood," said Cooper.

Oliver walked toward Cooper who was standing next to a machine designed to build upper body strength.

"I arranged a private session today," said Cooper. "I watched you practice earlier, and I wanted to hear from you how your first day was going."

Oliver smiled as he sat at the machine. "It could be better."

Cooper fixed Oliver's posture to maximize the work out. "Tell me more."

None of the other players were nearby. Oliver grunted as he lifted the weighted bar of the machine. "My flying is good. A little overbalanced on sharp turns, but I figured toning with a few extra pounds would help with that. Hand eye coordination is great. Blaowman was great to practice with. He really kept the momentum going. And the conversation forced me to multitask, which is always great to practice."

The two moved to another machine. "I saw all this from the sidelines. Remind me to give you some stretching and toning techniques to help with your balance. But there was something else there. A negative energy that prevented you from playing up to your normal caliber."

This was why Oliver enjoyed working with Cooper. While his muscles contracted and released, his emotional baggage was squeezed out of him. Cooper enjoyed talking while working out. In fact, he encouraged it. To him, the body sweated to remove toxins from the body, and to cleanse completely, you needed to let go of your psychological problems.

"There are some issues with my position on the team."

Cooper nodded his head. "I figured as much from the cackling I heard earlier. Tell me more."

"I am not a pretty boy who fought for the wizarding world because I wanted my face in the papers."

"Continue," said Cooper as Oliver gritted his teeth.

"My relationship with Harry Potter in no way inhibits my ability to play keeper for this or any other team in the National Quidditch League."

"Good. I'm glad we've got that figured out." Cooper glanced over his shoulder and saw how close the other team members were becoming. "Just remember you can't hold it all in. You need find someone to release this tension with."

Oliver raised his eyebrows in a questioning look.

"I can't arrange a private training session every practice, Oliver," Cooper said, his voice low to prevent the others from eavesdropping. "And besides, you need more than I can provide. Go to a bar, meet up with friends."

Oliver nodded and released the weight in his hand.

"Good. Now on to the shoulders."

Oliver and Cooper made small talk during the rest of their session. It gave Oliver time to think about his friends. Oliver kept in touch with his old Hogwarts' teammates: Angelina, Alicia, and Katie. They were great fun, but wouldn't fulfill his needs this time. The girls were for going out and partying, not serious conversation.

Occasionally, Oliver would send an owl to Charlie Weasley, but Charlie was always more of a mentor than a friend. With Charlie, Oliver could talk about relationships and career plans without the worry of harsh criticism. Despite his rough exterior, Charlie held a soft spot for his former teammate. Oliver supposed his unrequited crush on Charlie was the reason Charlie acted so kindly towards him.

There was always George Weasley. But since the battle, Oliver hadn't heard from George. Then again, he didn't think many people heard from George since May. The battle took its toll on George. Without his twin by his side, George reverted into a previously unknown place.

Oliver thought he just might go into a random pub and start making new friends. Meeting people who didn't know his history might help with the transition from Battle Hero to ordinary Quidditch Player.

Oliver left practice that afternoon, trudging through the reporters, microphones, and cameras at the stadium entrance, with plans to go to his apartment and stare at the ceiling until his eyes could no longer stay open.

As he entered his flat, Oliver glanced at the pile of mail next to his owl's cage. "I guess you were out and about today. Anything good?" Oliver flitted though the pile, stopping as he saw his mother's handwriting.

_My dear Oliver, _

_Your father and I haven't heard from you in so long. It would be lovely of you to come visit now and again. We miss our star Quidditch player. It doesn't look good when we can't tell all the lovely interviewers that we haven't seen you in ages. _

_I found more clippings to add to your memory album. There was a little blurb about your friendship with Harry Potter in last week's Ottery Times. And let's not forget the spread in the Daily Prophet. That was a beauty. I've sent you a copy. Read it, Oliver. It will do you some good to see all the things people want to know about you. _

_Come visit soon, _

_Mom_

Oliver sighed as he put down the letter and picked up the copy of the Daily Prophet. It was yesterday's edition, and there was a large photo of Oliver from his Hogwarts' days on the front cover. _The New Hero of Blue and Gold_ read the caption across the front. "You'd think they'd have more exciting things to cover after the fall of Voldemort. But no, they plaster my face on the front page." Oliver fed Snitch a few owl treats, then settled down to read the article.

_With the start of the National Quidditch League, the question on everyone's mind is "Who is this gorgeous man?" Ladies and Gentlemen, meet the newest player of Puddlemere United: Oliver Wood. _

_Wood made his keeper début at the age of four for the Lowercroft Crups, his local peewee Quidditch league. The youngest player on the team, Wood wowed the crowds with his agility, balance, and grace on his broomstick. _

_His Quidditch career took off when he became the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team during his stay at Hogwarts. After his stellar performance that won Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup in his seventh year, where he played with none other than the Harry Potter, Wood was signed to Puddlemere United's reserve team. _

"_It was the proudest moment of my life," says his mother, Rachel Wood, daughter of Kevin Broadmoor, former beater of the Falmouth Falcons. "His talent on a broom was always my greatest accomplishment." _

_Wood's most stunning achievement to date is his participation in the Battle of Hogwarts, where he fought along side Potter and friends for our right to wizardry. It won't be too long before we see his handsome face on a Chocolate Frog Card. _

_Yet little is known about this young protégée. Wood keeps his interviews short, speaking only of Quidditch. But what about his personal life? That is the question on every young witch's mind. We want more, Oliver Wood. _

Oliver glanced through the rest of the article. It asked a variety of questions. Apparently every witch in England wants to know his favorite color, his personal nickname, and his thoughts on the Acting Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, putting a bid in to make his position permanent.

Oliver sighed and used the article to reline Snitch's cage as he cleaned it out.


End file.
